Page 47 of Ghost
“Norman…” Damen said ominously, his tone dripping in annoyance.
I didn’t bother to suppress my smirk. “Damen, why didn’t you check your messages?” If he hadn’t looked, then something must have greatly disturbed him. I was dying to know what it was, seeing Damen become unraveled was my favorite.
“Mind your own business. I was calling to let you know that we’ll be arriving shortly,” he growled before hanging up the phone.
My mood greatly improved, I returned my phone to my pocket before heading back to the living room.
Miles was speaking to Bianca when I arrived.
“Damen mentioned that you had anxiety, but did you always suffer from attacks?” he said. “It’s good to be able to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be a scary, debilitating condition.”
I froze, barely into the room, as I stared at Miles in surprise. After all, I knew where he was going with this. Coming from anyone else, his questions would have been intrusive. But…
Neither of them noticed me, and he continued.
“I get panic attacks still,” he admitted. “But when I was younger, I got them a lot more. Almost every day. I had a lot of feelings, with no way to deal with them. So my thoughts turned into worries, which later became overwhelming. That’s one of the reasons why we moved to France.”
Bianca’s eyes were wide in rapt attention, and I knew my own expression mimicked hers. It was unusual for Miles to put himself into a vulnerable position. He was always the quiet one, and preferred to nurture the rest of us.
“Why else did you move to France?” she asked, her face the picture of innocence. But it was obvious she was trying to keep the subject off of her. It was understandable though. Just because Miles opened up to her, she couldn’t be expected to do the same.
“My mother is French,” Miles replied, his tone deceptively light. But his face paled as he spoke of his biological mother. “She came to the United States to attend university. That’s when she met my father.”
Bianca was frowning, not missing Miles’ reaction. But she didn’t interrupt, as if she knew the bond he was forging between the two of them was so very fragile.
“She has issues herself,” Miles continued. “She always did. But she didn’t let them prevent her from living her life. She and my dad got married, and my sister was born five months later. Four years after that, I was born. My father died when I was almost ten. That set her over the edge, and she lost her grip on reality. Colette took care of us—Mom, her, and me. She also worked to hide our family business from outsiders. But it became too much. By the time authorities caught on, I was twelve. They wanted to separate us. Put Colette and I into foster care, and my mother into an institution. But my grandparents, who still live in France, stepped in. They got us out of the country.”
“Your grandparents didn’t know before that?” Bianca’s voice was soft concern, but it didn’t lesson the blow of her last question. “Why didn’t your father’s parents help?”
Miles’ jaw tightened, and his eyes snapped to the window.
I was about to interject—Bianca would blame herself if he shut down. It was enough that Miles had spoken about his past this much at all. But he continued to surprise me by responding, “We never had a relationship with my father’s parents.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head, her bright eyes studying him. “I suppose that makes sense. That is the normal way of things when it comes to forbidden love affairs.”
Miles’ dark expression cleared in an instant, and he appeared to be stunned. His focus returned to her, and he replied warily, “Something like that…”
I didn’t blame him for being frightened. Bianca sat forward in her seat eagerly. Her face alight with a certain look she seemed to adopt when making up her mind about something. Lord only knew what it was this time. But I was beginning to grow cautiously fond of that expression.
From the minute twitch of Miles’ lips, he felt the same. It was almost a miracle, how her odd statements had a way of snapping him out of his moods.
“But enough about me,” he cut to the chase, his intentions shifting. Bianca, sensing this, seemed to shrink further into her seat. But he didn’t let up.
“You and I can help each other. What do you normally do to handle this? What are your triggers?”
Chapter Nineteen
Bianca
Psychosis
I should have known that he’d ask this. Yet it didn’t stop the pounding of my heart, or the sick feeling that washed over me. But it didn’t matter, I would eventually have to tell them.
They deserved to know.
“I get scared when people are angry…” Despite my best effort, fear leaked into my voice. “Or when there’s a chance that someone is disappointed in me.”
It was something that happened far too often. And I had learned early on when you angered those who controlled you.
